I'm having another graduate school crisis. Why the hell am I here? What the heck am I doing? Is anyone ever really going to care about my research? Honestly, I'm feeling that my work is kind of worthless and insignificant... I mean, how is my work going to transform or provide insight into science, into chemistry? I don't think it will. Why is my research important? Right now, I don't think it is. And so how the hell am I going to get a PhD from the load of crap that I'm researching? It's frustrating, depressing, and makes me feel like I'm going to blow chunks any second.

So this afternoon, I sought solace in the library by hunting down copies of The Tao of Pooh and Where the Sidewalk Ends. The wisdom in these simple books has always cheered me up and helped me to regain my bearings. While walking out of the library with these two tiny hardbacks under my arm, with the intention of going home, curling up into my papasan and being appeased by my books and a glass of sweet wine, the most amazing thing happened... something that made me forget about Pooh Bear and Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Who Would Not Take the Garbage Out. The earth proved that the best things happen when you least expect them.

It started to rain. And rain hard. It was one of those great southern thunderstorms where the rain falls like marbles and the water blankets your feet as you walk through it. It was magical--feeling the rain pelt my skin and soak through my clothes, allowing my toes to swim through the pools of water littered with leaves and blossoms, lifting my head towards the sky and letting the damp drops wash away my makeup, smelling both the dirty humidity and refreshing coolness of the sky simultaneously. I stopped for awhile and just stood in that rainstorm, feeling so small yet so huge, so humbled yet so proud, so alive yet so broken, so sad yet so joyful.

I need to take walks in the rain more often.